How XPEL PPF Saved My Jeep From Nasty Pinstripes Off-Road And Why You Should Consider It For Your Off-Roader

There are three things needed for a vehicle to be truly unstoppable off-road. First, it needs the necessary hardware —  the right tires, the right geometry, the right 4×4 system, the right underbody protection, and so on. Then the vehicle needs the right driver with the right amount of skill to know how to operate that vehicle over a variety of terrain. And third — and this is something not talked about nearly enough — that skilled driver of the off-road capable machine needs to be willing to actually go off-road.

Skills aren’t enough if you’re too afraid to put those skills to the test because your Jeep has a shiny paintjob you’re not willing to compromise. It’s for this reason that The Autopian partnered up with XPEL, maker of a critically acclaimed Paint Protection Film that car-nuts have been using for many years. This film has proven itself to be a great way to prevent rock chips on high-end sports cars, but will it prevent pinstriping while off-road? Will it allow me to tackle trails I otherwise couldn’t in my shiny Jeep? I pointed my recently-painted 200,000 mile Jeep Wrangler YJ towards a remote part of the White Mountains near the Eastern Sierras to find out. Here’s what I learned.

“David, this is a terrible idea,” my girlfriend, Elise (not her real name), stated from the passenger’s seat of my square-headlight Jeep, which we were off-roading many walking hours away from the nearest road. “If we break down we’re so screwed.” She was right. I had broken a cardinal rule of off-roading: Always bring a buddy, especially when you’re out in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, my Jeep remained an absolute tank, but even if it didn’t break down, it did sustain damage from what ended up being a gnarly trail in a truly gorgeous “middle of nowhere.”

The route had been recommended by a friend in the automotive industry with many years of off-road experience. I’d asked around for a trail that would have lots of brush encroaching onto the path, as I wanted to see how well the PPF would hold up, and whether I would recommend it to readers as a way to get past inhibitions about off-roading their nice machines. My friend told me one of his go-to spots, but swore me to secrecy; as such, I can only give you the approximate region here near Lone Pine, in the White Mountains of California:

“[The location] is a special place. Don’t need people to mess it up,” the person told me. I was intrigued.

Starting The Journey

Unfortunately, my Jeep was suffering from some kind of fuel leak that was making for a rather smelly driving experience, and since I didn’t want to breathe that in all weekend, I set about swapping the fuel pump, fuel pump seal, vent seals, and hoses.

While I’m still trying to understand why I smell gasoline when I let off the Jeep’s accelerator, my repair stopped a rather prominent fuel leak. I drove my now-somewhat-fixed Jeep to Elise’s house, we packed our things, and then we headed north just after I shot a random stand-up video describing what I was doing. Here I am in a bank parking lot basically explaining that I was headed to the middle of nowhere to put XPEL to the test, and while we didn’t use that clip in the video embedded above, I think this photo does show just how nice the Jeep looked prior to the excursion. The thing is squeaky clean!

Here’s a video I shot of how nice the old Jeep turned out after 405 Motoring in Inglewood cleaned it, conducted a paint correction, and PPF’d it:

Anyway, after that awkward stand-up at the bank, Elise and I hit the road.

The journey up took us north on the 405 freeway to Santa Clarita, where we met traffic, as expected.

Then we went northeast through a valley between the Santa Susana and San Gabriel Mountains, at which point we charged through a truly desolate desert before cruising along the eastern edge of the Sierras.

Driving along so much low, flat desert posed some challenges. For one, since we were out in the middle of nowhere, the Jeep’s candle-like headlights struggled to illuminate the road ahead.

Worse than that, though, were the gusts. In order to handle the drive without too much wind blowing into our faces, and without freezing due to the cold desert nighttime air, I had installed the soft top, which basically turns the Jeep into a tent. And what happens to a tent when it travels 65 MPH and is subject to 40 MPH crosswinds? Bad things:

The drive was a bit of a nightmare, with fatigue taking hold, high winds throwing the Jeep all over the road, and just two pathetic lamps illuminating the road 20 feet ahead. Add to that the fact that the hotel I’d booked in Lone Pine had no record of my reservation, and Elise and I found ourselves in a parking lot at 2AM totally exhausted. It was bad.

Luckily, my partner rallied and found us a little motel called the Courthouse Motel in Independence, CA — population: 850 people.

The kind owner of the spot got us a room late at night, and though it had some bugs in it and was a bit rough around the edges, Elise and I were grateful to be there and happy that the owners seemed so pleasant. (I, a certified Cheap Bastard, was especially happy with how much cheaper the room was than the other hotel I’d apparently not booked).

Anyway, after crashing hard from the trek, we snagged breakfast and headed out to the “special” location my industry friend had recommended.

Hitting The Trail

Waking up to my first-ever clear sight of the Sierras was incredible. With horses grazing the valley, the sun beating down on Elise and me, and the cool breeze blowing against our skin now that we’d taken the Jeep’s top off, cruising through the desert valley between the Sierras and White Mountains was a moment of pure joy — a few hours of tranquility during which I could forget about all my stressful obligations as EIC of a big car website.

Our trek out into the middle of nowhere started near Lone Pine, California, a fascinating and beautiful old western town perched at the foot of an astonishingly beautiful mountain range. Each morning folks in this hot desert village step out of their homes to see a breathtaking view of snowcapped mountain terrain that appears to the west, so close, and yet so far from Lone Pine’s brown, dusty, brutally hot reality.

We drove away from the Sierras for the White Mountains on the east. Specifically, we were headed down an old mining road that carves through land that has historical significance to Native Americans.

Appearing more like a trail an old Conestoga Wagon might traverse, the terrain felt like the backdrop for an old western film and certainly not a popular off-road route. Flies swarmed our Jeep and buzzards slowly hovered overhead as the unrelenting sun combined with a feeling of truly remote solitude to create an eerie energy. Though we would later see a few Jeeps off in the distance, it became clear that if something were to happen, we’d be stuck out there, perhaps for days.

The start of the trail was flat desert with short, almost bristle-y shrubbery:

But quickly we began climbing rocky ledges that required me to pop the Jeep into low-range.

Then we found ourselves spiraling up steep mountain roads, with the White Mountain range and Eastern Sierras in our view:

Here we are at the peak of a grade the Jeep had climbed with ease:

The view that remains forever imprinted on my mind isn’t the gorgeous one shown above, but the valley Elise and I found ourselves once we descended.

It was a gargantuan punchbowl of a valley completely surrounded by mountains but with enough miles of visibility in every direction to imprint in our mind that it was just us out there. It was Elise, me, and that Jeep in the white mountains, and there was nobody anywhere for at least 20 miles.

I listened to the legendary 4.0-liter AMC inline-six and found a purity I’d never heard in my 17 years of driving Jeeps powered by that unstoppable motor. It was those flat-tappet lifters sliding against the boundary lubrication on those camshaft lobes; it was the oversquare motor’s six big pistons making short strokes to suck in air; it was that timing chain spinning around inside the engine’s aluminum front cover; it was the water pump pushing that coolant through the thermostat and out into the radiator; it was that transmission input shaft bearing; it was the hum of that fuel pump; it was the rhythmic spritz of those fuel injectors; it was that mechanical fan pulling air through that radiator — it all sang that beautiful Kenosha, Wisconsin tune unencumbered by anything sans an occasional bird chirp. It was beautiful. It was serene. It was perfect.

As I drove through the sandy mining trails, the path grew narrower and narrower as trees and bushes — and not exactly limber, lush ones, but rather stiff, dehydrated ones that will leave a scratch — from either side stretched further and further across the gap as if eager to embrace their opposite neighbors.

Luckily, the Jeep Wrangler YJ is a rather narrow machine — eight inches narrower than a modern Wrangler and 20 inches narrower than a Ford Bronco Raptor — so the Jeep could get by without drama. Though in short order, I faced the choice so many off-roaders do when driving through trails like this or through forest trails: Do I power through or do I just turn back?

Well, the point of the trip was to put the PPF to the test, so I trudged on.

SKREEECHHHH! I heard as those brittle twigs dug into my Jeep’s beautiful body and pulled across the surface like nails on a chalkboard. I winced as the brush pushed my driver’s side mirror back and banged my side-mounted GoPro right off.

Don’t take my word for it; here’s a wince caught on camera:

At one point, the trail forked, and I kept going straight instead of off to the right; this took me down a trail that appeared to turn into some sort of dried creek bed.

It was absurdly narrow, and if I had to guess, nobody other than dirtbikers were traversing it.

Of course, I found this out the hard way, as it was difficult to back out once I was in.

Elise wasn’t happy that I kept going, and she was right. This was a creek bed, and no place for a Jeep. I almost got it stuck at one point, and between that and the fact that it was becoming more and more apparent just how far we’d have to walk to get to civilization if something were to happen, tensions were high.

So, after an arduous 10 minutes in reverse gear getting out of that creek bed, we high-tailed it back towards civilization, but again, through narrow, brush-covered trails that punished the port and starboard side of the YJ, hammering away at the hood, front fenders, and body sides. I did my best to avoid the shrubs, and though I know I could have avoided more if I had driven more slowly, the truth is: We were a little anxious given how far out in the middle of nowhere we were. So the Jeep just took a beating. And then more of a beating. In time, my ears grew used to the fingers-on-a-chalkboard sound, and I just put my head down and drove.

Elise was not comforted when I told her “Hey, look, we’re not alone. I told you it’s fine!”

Nor was she thrilled when I said: “Hey, look, there’s a house here. It’s totally fine!”:

The whole off-road trip was a five-hour trek, but it felt more like 20 simply due to how far away from anyone or anything we’d driven. The truth is, both Elise and I were relieved once we made it back onto some pavement.

It was there that we assessed the damage.

The Aftermath

The Jeep had sustained some damage, and I was a little worried. After all, it’s rare to find a YJ Wrangler in this good shape, especially a 1991 model, which I consider the best one since it combines the new fuel injection with the old “sport-bar” roll cage.

The fender flares are gouged. Deep. They look pretty awful up close, I must admit. Thank goodness the scratches themselves are black since the flares are solid rubber; this means that, from a few feet, the Jeep still looks decent.

My brand new soft-top trim mounted to the top of the body tub has been scratched up, as you can see above. And even my brand new mirrors feature little gouges:

Worse, I seem to have actually dented my hood on one of the trees hanging into the trail:

The dent is minor, thank goodness, and the flares and mirrors and soft top trim can all be replaced relatively easily. What cannot be replaced easily, though, is paint, and on that front, my Jeep looks as good as new.

The reality is that XPEL’s 10 mil (0.01 inches) PPF is pretty thick, and it would be difficult for a stiff twig to actually puncture it. Scratch it a bit? Maybe, sure. But XPEL’s PPF heals itself in the sun, and after looking at my Jeep up close, I don’t see any significant gouging at all. The body and paint look fantastic.

Obviously, my Jeep is white, so seeing scratches would be more challenging than if it were, say, black. But it’s clear, upon looking at the Jeep, that nothing gouged even the PPF. You might be able to find the faintest bit of swirling if you look really, really closely, but the truth is, not only is my paint in mint condition under that PPF, but the actual product helps make the Jeep look amazing when clean.

Could I have done this trail without PPF and spent hours and hours trying to buff out the scratches in my clearcoat? Sure. But that sounds miserable compared to just spraying the vehicle off and watching it return to perfect condition with a simple wipe of a microfiber cloth.

And so that brings me to the conclusion. If the question I set out to answer was: Does XPEL PPF protect my car’s paint while off-roading? The answer is a clear: Yes. If the question is: Will I feel more confident, and therefore take on more challenging trails than I otherwise would? I’d say, after seeing how well XPEL protects your off-roader, you almost certainly will take on tighter trails than normal instead of turning around for fear of pinstripes. Because that’s a very, very real limiting factor off-road, and if you don’t believe me, just look at the picture above. I spotted that Toyota Tacoma on the way back from my off-road trip. Yikes!

But that’s historically just part of the risk when you’re off-roading. On an older Taco, that may not be a big deal, which is perhaps why that driver was willing to risk it, but if you have a 2024 Jeep Wrangler or Bronco Raptor that you want to keep for a long time, XPEL PPF may make sense for you. Per 405 Motoring, my Jeep got about $7500 worth of PPF, and I got a quote recently for my Galvanic Gold 2021 BMW i3S, and it’ll cost me about $5000 to treat the whole car to that paint-protecting goodness.

I’m going to do it. That i3 is my daily driver, and its paint is what makes it special. I plan to preserve it at all costs, especially here in LA, where I can expect folks to open their doors against my beloved carbon fiber BMW, to potentially push a shopping cart up against it, or even to gently judge my bumper while parking.

In the right circumstances, on the right car, for the right person, XPEL PPF makes all the sense in the world, which is why so many folks I know swear by it. I haven’t seen it used a ton for off-road vehicles, but I could see that changing. Because it really does make a difference.